


The Ethnomycology of Ugly Landscaping

by Superstition_hockey



Series: Witchering Pays but Botany Doesn't [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Rockstar Jaskier, Witcher Geralt in the modern world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superstition_hockey/pseuds/Superstition_hockey
Summary: Geralt is too old to have stayed up all night in the parking lot behind a concert venue, drinking cans of Viziman Champion and watching people do kickflips on their skateboards. Too old to sit on the rear bumper of a tour bus and listen to someone talk about music and dreams and adventure until dawn. And yet, here he is.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witchering Pays but Botany Doesn't [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666258
Comments: 46
Kudos: 292





	The Ethnomycology of Ugly Landscaping

Geralt is too old to have stayed up all night in the parking lot behind a concert venue, drinking cans of Viziman Champion and watching people do kickflips on their skateboards. Too old to sit on the rear bumper of a tour bus and listen to someone talk about music and dreams and adventure until dawn. And yet, here he is. 

His mutations mean he’s not exactly _hungover_ the way most people might be, but he’d still rather be in bed than sitting at a vegan brunch place in a recently gentrified part of the city down by the docks. 

He’s not even five minutes late but the potential client’s already there. He stands up when Geralt comes in the door and shakes his hand. Geralt sometimes fondly remembers the times before wrist watches and mobile phones. When people measured their time by the bells of a temple tower or the shadows in a field, and the change of a season, the snow melting, a pass opening, a river swelling its banks. Time moves faster when everyone is always counting their seconds. 

The client is a tall, lanky human, looks like he’s in his late 30s, with wire-framed spectacles and a laptop on the table. He stands next to Geralt in line and makes more small talk than Geralt can handle without coffee. 

Geralt orders a pour over and puts his sunglasses back on while he watches the barista make it. They take a seat outside. Geralt would have preferred inside, because even with the “urban renewal planning,” it’s still the docks, and it still fucking smells like them too. 

“This place is great,” the guy says, taking a sip of his coffee. “They do sandwiches for lunch too.” He flicks his eyes over Geralt. “Although most of it is vegan. I’m sure you’re all carnivore.” He laughs a little. 

“Hm,” Geralt says, in hopes that the man will hurry it along to the actual contract. 

“Actually I think this place used to be some kind of smoke shop,” he says, instead of anything useful. “One of those places where you could buy lottery tickets and vape pens. It’s definitely an improvement.” 

“It used to be a whore-house,” Geralt says. 

The man coughs. 

“Back in the 13th century. Catered mostly to Skelligan dockworkers.” He takes a sip of his coffee, “Nilfgaard burned it to the ground in 1263. The madame’s daughter rebuilt it, tried to make it a respectable sort of tavern for a while, it flipped back and forth for a few years, sat empty for a while, was a wheel-wrights place for a few generations. In the 19th century, there was a little printing press here that ran anti-Imperialist pamphlets, but it got burned down.” 

“Wow!” the guy says, with way more enthusiasm than Geralt was hoping for. “Have you ever thought about doing a podcast?”

“No.” Geralt leans back in his chair and waits. 

The guy coughs a little. “Right! Well, I suppose you want to hear about the job.” 

“Mhm.” 

Three hours later, Geralt makes it back to the hotel. He’s got a second coffee, and a chocolate croissant in a bag. The croissant is not vegan. Every man has their line in the sand. Jaskier is still asleep, starfished diagonally on the bed, face smushed into the mattress. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Geralt says dryly, and throws the curtains open. Jaskier lets out the sort of startled hiss/screech Geralt’s only heard before from a startled katakan and burrows under the covers away from the light. 

Geralt pulls the blankets off him. 

“You’re cruel, sirrah,” Jaskier mumbles, rolling over so he’s face down into the mattress, eyes scrunched close. “Cruel and merciless. What time is it? Why are you persecuting me? Why aren’t you and your lovely bum back in bed with me? What smells so good?”

“Coffee. If you get up and get in the shower, you can have some when you get out. If you hurry, it might even still be hot.”

Jaskier rolls off the mattress onto the floor into a sitting position. “Coffee?”

“Shower.”

Jaskier stares out the window. “ _Why_ is it so early?”

“It’s 11 a.m.”

“Sweet Melitele,” Jaskier mumbles. “Why.”

“It’s not early, you’re just a hungover rockstar who’s not used to being up before mid afternoon, and who tried to outdrink a 900 year old aristocrat.” 

Jaskier moans. “She looked so small and wholesome!”

“She was raised by _Witchers_ ,” Geralt says, without any sympathy, but he does hold out his hand and help Jaskier up to his feet. 

“I’m far too weak, you’ll have to carry me.” 

Geralt looks at where Jaskier is standing, squarely and with no difficulty, smiling winsomely up at him. “Mhm,” Geralt says and picks him up bridal style and carries him into the shower. “This what you were looking for?”

“Yes, quite.” And Geralt smiles at the satisfaction in the other man’s voice. 

A quick rinse and a round of enthusiastic shower blowjobs later, Geralt hands Jaskier his mostly still warm coffee. Jaskier moans, wantonly, through the first third of the cup, shakes himself, stretches and says, “Well. And what do you want to do today, darling? Shall we get brunch?”

“Got a job in the foothills of the Amells. You said you didn’t have anywhere to be for a few days. Thought you could come with me.” 

Jaskier takes a contemplative sip of coffee and says, “Like… camping?”

“Yes. Like Camping.” He shifts, a little, suddenly feeling unsure. “You said you wanted to see…”

“Oh!” Jaskier beams at him, “yes! I do! I definitely do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks as always to Dangercupcake for fixing my commas. Title, like most in this series, from the YouTube channel Crime Pays But Botany doesn't, which I heartily recommend.


End file.
